#if you look back chronologically you can see all my Halloween fics getting progressively longer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecreelhouse · 29 days ago

Text

and the days only get longer from here

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato

This is part of the accident prone AU— please be warned there are spoilers in these mini fics if you have yet to read the main series! This post-series fic and more can be found here -> accident prone - the blurb sides. This also contains important details that will be lost on you if you haven’t read both the Halloween fic, or the grief one.

Summary: Frankie and Steve’s first Christmas together is a memorable one, filled with love from family and friends, and a special wish coming true, catching Steve by surprise.

WC: 5.2k+ (I know, I’m doing horribly on the whole “blurb” thing lol)

Includes: fluff, fluff, and more fluff. holiday joy and silliness. some hurt/comfort (mentions of Frankie’s ongoing health battle) and angst (brief mentions of illness and child hospitalization). and a teeeeensy bit of smut. language. I think that’s it?

A/N: Okay, look, I know it’s April, but I’m posting this anyway because it’s way more lighthearted than the others. These two needed some goofy, happy moments. Also, I couldn’t post the next fic (Kintsugi) without this first for chronological details. Anyway, hope y’all who read this enjoy it, and even if only a few of you continue to keep up on these two, I’m grateful. Thank you 💗 (dividers from @/strangergraphics & song title: threadbare - the wonder years)

High among the clouds in the Sears Tower, Steve and Frankie admire the city lights, glowing warmly underneath a fluffy blanket of snow. Snowflakes continue to flutter down like confetti, only adding to what’s predicted to be at least a foot’s worth of precipitation.

“You want me to back off?”

Frankie shakes her head, looking over her shoulder at Steve with a warm smile.

“M’okay, but if you wanna hold me, I won’t complain,” She shrugs with a laugh, fingers curled around the railing along the observation deck’s windows. Steve keeps an eye on her arms, if they’re shaking from holding herself up, but she’s doing well today.

Her balance has improved since she first had to restart treatment, nausea and fatigue finally subsiding as she fought this long flare-up. It’s been months of constant pain, false hope of things getting better, only for her body to betray her all over again.

Though Frankie doesn’t believe it’s a sign of weakness to use mobility aids, it’s certainly been frustrating to navigate any inaccessible surroundings in a wheelchair again.

“Wow… so pretty up here,” Frankie breathes out in awe, fogging up the glass before her. She giggles, balling up the sleeve of her sweater between her fingers, rubbing the condensation away.

“Not scary?” Steve teases, kissing the top of her head, reminiscent of the first time they were up here.

“Not with you,” she laces her fingers between his, both holding onto the railing together. “So many pretty lights!”

He chuckles, “You love holidays, don’t you?”

“Only the fun ones.”

Steve understands why Frankie was so down around Halloween; everything hurt for her. Everything triggered her illness even more, while battling it in treatment. To say she had a hard time functioning most days was an understatement.

Yet the drastic change from then to now is relieving. It’s not that he’s relieved as if it was a bother to him; he’d care for her, do whatever he can even if her bad days lasted forever. But it’s reassuring to see Frankie slowly easing back into her life.

It’s much easier to live and want to live when the pain is tolerable, at the very least.

Still, he worries, extra cautious in case Frankie’s progress retreats with another flare up. The kids are coming to visit for the holidays, and Frankie happily offered her place up for them to stay, giving Joyce and Hopper some peace and quiet at a hotel.

On top of that, Robin, Eddie, and Dustin are crashing at her place, too, so everyone can be together.

What if it’s too much? She doesn’t need more stress than she’s had. Maybe it’d be easier to move all of this to my apartment.

“Hey, you’re sure you wanna have all the kids stay at your place?” Steve asks softly. “‘Cause if you’re not up for it, we can make room at mine—“

“Steve,” Frankie glances over her shoulder at him with a reassuring smile. “M’fine. I promise. Might need to take some time to decompress away from everyone here and there, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

When he doesn’t reply, still concerned, she turns to face him, cautious in her movements. She lifts a hand to cup his face.

“Steve, really, it’s okay. More than okay. I want everyone here, as long as they’re cool with it.”

His reaction is to ask if she’s really okay with this, but suppresses that; I have to trust she knows what her limits are.

“Okay, yeah.” He kisses her forehead, hands resting on her hips. “If anything changes though—“

“I’ll tell ya’, I’ll tell ya’.” Frankie waves off his concern with a loving smile, turning back to the window. “Hm. Good thing Dustin isn’t here.”

“What?” Steve snorts, confused. “Why?”

“‘Cause he’d never be able to see his house from here through all this snow,” she deadpans.

“Oh my god,” his head falls forward, resting on hers while trying to stifle laughter. “Not this again.”

Frankie’s giggles break through, contagious as always, leading Steve into his own soft chuckles.

If their laughter intertwined was a song, without a doubt, it’d be Steve’s favorite.

“So… I thought you guys said I was Santa?” Eddie huffs, hands on his hips, clad in the traditional red and white get-up.

“No, I said I would be Santa,” Steve grumbles as he tugs his hat down on his head.

Frankie bites back giggles, watching the two men argue in Santa costumes as she sits on the store’s counter. They continue to bicker, when Steve calls out to her.

“We decided I was Santa, right?”

Eddie’s expression is at the intersection of offended and betrayed. “No, Frankie, tell him, I claimed Santa first!”

She opens her mouth, answer useless when the door’s chime rings out; Robin enters the record shop… in a fucking Santa costume.

“Hey guys! What’s—“ She stops dead in her tracks, narrowing her gaze at Eddie and Steve. “Since when are there three Santas?”

“No, nope, this isn’t happening,” Eddie firmly shakes his head. “We can’t do this.”

“Oh my god, we’re gonna ruin the holiday for the kids,” Steve throws his hands up, complaining.

“There’s no way any kid would believe any of your scrawny asses would be Santa,” Dustin sasses, cracking up at his own words. He’s dressed as an elf, a safe costume in this current chaos. Frankie can’t hold her laughter back any longer.

“‘Key, how could you betray me? Betray us?” Steve circles his pointer finger between him, Robin, and Eddie. Frankie has tears in her eyes the more she laughs. Her partner connects the dots, “Oh my god… is this why you didn’t want to dress as Mrs. Claus?”

“M’sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She blushes with a shrug, “And maybe… but I really don’t look good in red, let’s be real here.”

Steve’s face softens, ready to give words of confidence like any good boyfriend would. “Aw, honey, c’mon, you look cute in anyth—“

“Hang on,” Robin cuts in, jaw dropping as she glances slowly over at Frankie “… did you plan this?”

Frankie shrugs, pointing out, “Robin, you don’t even have a beard—“

“Because some dingus stole mine!”

Eddie chuckles to himself, “Heh, beard.” Robin whips her hat at him. “What? It’s funny!”

“Don’t be homophobic,” Robin grumbles, leaving Eddie bewildered.

“Hello? Me?” He scoffs, arms out in disbelief, “Buckley, I just slept with a dude yesterday!”

“Oh my god, ew, get me the hell outta here,” Dustin gags, retreating to the back of the store, but not before he clarifies, “I don’t wanna hear about anyone sleeping with anyone. Disgusting, all of you.”

Frankie snorts, holding her hands up innocently, while Steve flips Dustin off.

“I appreciate Dustin equally being disgusted by all couples across the board,” Robin chuckles, falling back into a scowl at Eddie. The annoyance is redistributed to Steve, pointing at him. “You do not get to be Santa.”

“What? Why me?!”

“‘Cause Santa isn’t a beard thief!”

Eddie presses his lips together tightly, cheeks puffing out as he tries to hold back his laughter. Frankie claps a hand over her mouth as she notices Eddie, barely composing himself; the impending laughter is already contagious.

“Oh, what, so now ‘cause I stole your beard, Santa’s committing a hate crime—“

Frankie calms herself enough to correct Steve, “Babe, that’s not—“

Meanwhile, Robin adds, “That’s not what that means, I explained to you what a beard is!”

Eddie breaks into hearty laughter, head thrown back as he holds his stomach, already paring his chuckles with tears.

“If that’s not the most Santa laugh I’ve heard or seen…” Robin easily forfeits her spot as a Santa candidate, “Yeah, Eddie has to be Santa.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Steve throws his hands up in frustration, marching over to his girlfriend. “‘Key, c’mon, don’t I get priority ‘cause we’re dating?”

“That’s unfair!” Dustin calls out as he returns from the stockroom.

“Henderson, you little shit, you were in on this too, huh?” Eddie’s hands rest on his hips, almost in the way Steve does on a regular basis. Dustin shrugs with a grin.

“Oh, just wait.”

Steve’s eyes widen over Dustin’s ominous tone. Frankie bites her lip, just enough to subdue the massive smirk begging to grow across her face.

“I don’t like that look,” he murmurs, narrowing his stare at her. “What’d you do?”

She shrugs, eyes flicking to the door before it chimes again; Steve turns his head, following her stare. This time, the rest of the kids enter the shop, with Joyce and Hopper not far behind.

And wouldn’t you know it— even Hopper got fooled into wearing a damn Santa costume.

“Hey, gu—“ the eldest man stops dead in his tracks, eyes darting from Steve, to Robin, to Eddie in confusion. “… Uh… why are you three in Santa outfits?”

The entire group takes in the sight of four Santas, now, bursting into snickers and chuckles. Even Joyce can’t keep herself from giggling.

Steve whips his head back to Frankie, who’s back in a fit of giggles again.

“Are you kidding me?”

Ready to quip, she opens her mouth, interrupted when the door chimes yet again.

“Merry Chri—“

Everyone turns to find Frankie’s father in the doorway, donning a— you guessed it— Santa costume.

Slowly, he notes the other four Santas in the room, brow quirking as he narrows his stare to his daughter.

“This has your name written all over it, kid.”

One noise, one tiny, little snort among the youngest bunch catches Hopper’s attention; he doesn’t even have to look at El to know it’s her.

“What, did you team up with Frankie, or something?”

El just shoots a knowing smile at Frankie before whistling, staring up at the ceiling. Between that, and the way both Hopper and Frankie’s father slide one of their giant hands down their faces with signature dad-like sighs, that breaks Steve into laughter, finally.

For how far El has come since escaping the lab many, many years ago, she’s grown out of a lot mannerisms that she originally mirrored from TV shows, or watching adults interact around her; there’s a few that have stuck all this time later, even after coalescing into society and finding her footing.

That, paired with Hopper’s signature response to half of the mischievous nonsense the kids would get into, and discovering Frankie’s dad also does the same, it makes Steve wonder just how much of a handful she must’ve been as a kid, too.

His amusement barely has a chance to die down when the goddamn door chimes again, with Nancy and Jonathan entering the store.

Predictably, Jonathan was also thrown into this harmless prank, in a Santa suit of his own.

One by one, he eyes up each costume, then glances down at his own before murmuring, “Wait a second… a least one of us has to change.”

The entire room, quiet at first, erupts into roars of laughter; even all six Santas join in, despite Jonathan being absolutely lost on what’s going on.

The subtle high-five Joyce gives El doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

“Alright, alright, whatever, it’s a Santa convention.” Eddie grabs a box of ornaments, eyes rolling playfully at Frankie while he heads over to the tree. “We gonna decorate or what?”

Everyone begins to pitch in with decorating around the store, yet Steve stays put, smirking at Frankie.

“You’re nothing but trouble, you know that?” He teases, hands planted on the counter, caging her in. “Where the hell did you come up with this anyway? And when?”

“Remember at the Halloween party, we were all weirded out by how similar my dad and Hopper look?” Steve nods, smirk softening as Frankie slides her hands over his. “El said how funny it’d be if they dressed completely the same, and behold! Our grand plan was born.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dustin adds.

Steve scoffs, “There’s no way anyone told you and you kept that secret for two months.”

“You’re right,” El giggles, sticking her tongue out at Dustin childishly. “He didn’t know until a few days ago.”

“I would’ve kept it a surprise!”

“You almost told Steve about his surprise birthday party last year,” Eddie nonchalantly chimes in, not even looking up from the tree as he winds garland around it.

“Oh my god, can’t a guy live with some occasional flaws?!”

“‘Occasional’ is a lie,” Lucas jabs with a snort.

Frankie’s got tears rolling down her face the harder she laughs, and though Steve laughs with her, he admires the contrast from the Halloween party to right now. Her joy wasn’t forced last time, but it certainly took more effort than usual.

She’s not fighting off the cruel side effects of treatment, and the hellish flare she was struggling through has finally began to respond to said treatment. There’s a bit more color in her cheeks— not from a butterfly rash, for once— warmth in her smile, and a playful spark in her eyes. The fatigue has lifted a little, and she can walk short distances with her cane again. Conversations don’t drain her as easily on her good days, and she had enough energy to pull off an unexpected, harmless prank.

There’s visible proof things are slowly returning to normal— her normal, that is; she will never be completely free from pain or its mental anguish, but it’s manageable again. And even when it all fell to shit, her new friends, her partner, none of them left, not like those of her past.

She didn’t have to fight this alone, and Steve can only hope it has brought some comfort through the storm.

When Frankie settles down, her smile doesn’t fade, just softens into something fond as she stares at Steve. “What?”

He realizes he’s spaced out while watching her, blushing as he comes back to the present. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Her sunshine-like grin is back as she rests her forehead against his. “I love you, too.”

Right as they’re about to kiss, Dustin screeches from across the store, “Get a room! God, you’re all disgusting heathens.”

Steve grumbles some curses under his breath, smiling as Frankie giggles yet again. Her joy is endless tonight. Contagious.

“Think it’s only fair you help me decorate after putting me through this Santa fiasco,” he holds out his hand, helping Frankie off the counter, handing her cane over in the other.

She sighs dramatically, “Oh, fiiiiiiine, but we need some music first.” It’s muscle memory to her, plucking a certain record out of the store’s rotation stash without a second thought. She lays the record on the turntable, delicately resting the needle on its first groove. A bit of static softly escapes the speakers, ushering in The Pointer Sisters’ version of Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. Frankie’s smile lights up, brighter than the lights strung along the tree.

“S’my favorite Christmas album,” she says, holding up the vinyl sleeve of A Very Special Christmas, in all its bright red glory, with Keith Haring’s art in gold as the design.

Somehow, this never came up in conversation, not until now; Steve grins excitedly.

“It’s actually mine, too.”

Frankie’s expression only transforms into something so pure, glowing with absolute glee.

“Kinda like that we’re still learning fun stuff ‘bout each other.” She grabs Steve’s hand with a pep in her step, leading him across the store, into the break room. Scooping up a tub of paints and brushes, she asks, “I still need to paint cute snowmen on the windows. Wanna help?”

Steve’s pretty sure Frankie could ask for anything right now, and no matter what, he’d happily say yes. It’s simple really— when Frankie’s happy, Steve’s happy, and vice versa.

It’s good to have that cycle back.

The party’s in full swing, with familiar and new faces roaming about the shop. When the door chimes again, Frankie instantly recognizes the latest visitor.

“Hey, robot buddy! You made it!”

Steve turns to find Frankie greeting a young boy and his mother— Ian, the kid who bonded with Frankie at the Halloween party over their wheelchairs. This time, his chair is decked out to look like Santa’s sleigh, dressed like him, too.

“‘Key, please don’t tell me you convinced him to dress as Santa, too.” Steve murmurs into her ear; she shoots him a look.

“Absolutely not, I’m not that mean.” She sticks her tongue out at him before wandering over to the young boy.

“Hiya, Frankie!” Ian grins up at her, adjusting the brim of his Santa hat; it’s a bit too big for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, kiddo,” Frankie beams back at both him and his mother. “You just might have the best Santa costume here.”

Ian glances around the shop, counting all the Santas surrounding him. “Whoa…” His eyes land on Frankie’s father, pointing at him. “Yeah, but he’s got the perfect beard!”

She snorts, “That’s my dad, actually.”

“Your dad is Santa? That’s so sick…”

His mother, Charlene, laughs. “Yeah, we’re back on that word again.”

“Maybe, but you’re robot Santa, and there’s no one else like that.” Frankie high-fives him, absolutely basks in the pure, childlike joy he radiates. “Oh, wait, I got somethin’ for you!”

She ducks behind the counter, pulling out a gift bag with a tag reading— To: Ian, From: Frankie & Steve.

Ian’s jaw drops, surprisingly more thrilled than Frankie had anticipated.

“… For me?”

Frankie nods, handing it over, “It’s not much, but—“

He’s already excitedly tossing out the tissue paper, making Frankie and Charlene giggle.

Ian gasps, finding a brand new box of crayons, another box of colored pencils, along with a hardcover sketchbook.

On the days Frankie would visit Ian during his treatment, he was always drawing, but never had anything proper to keep his artwork in. His mother couldn’t afford much, so he’d use a composition book and a pack of crayons run down to waxy nubs. They made the best of the little paints and cardboard they had to dress up his wheelchair like the sleigh he’s in tonight.

Frankie would always bring him some art supplies, extras she had collecting dust after her health declined; she’d rather see them be used than sit untouched, especially if it brought Ian joy in a bleak situation.

“You mean it?” Ian asks, gazing up at Frankie with glossy eyes, tugging at her heartstrings. “I can keep it?”

She chokes back tears of her own, nodding happily. “They’re all yours, kiddo. I can’t wait to see what you create.”

The boy hands the bag over to Charlene hastily, leaning over the side of his chair to hug Frankie’s legs. She laughs wetly, repositioning herself to properly hug him.

“Will you still come visit?” He asks, voice wavering with emotions. Since Frankie finished treatment, she hasn’t been in the hospital as often. “Mommy said I’m going to a different hospital soon.”

Frankie pulls back, glancing up at Charlene with concern.

“As long as your mommy’s okay with it—“

“Absolutely,” his mother answers quickly; Frankie can tell something’s up.

She turns back to Ian, “I bet Steve would love to see your costume,” nodding to her partner not too far off. “He’ll be so jealous of your sleigh.”

The young boy’s emotions fade into something positive. “Okay!” He spins his chair toward her boyfriend, rolling over quickly. Even from a distance, they can hear him excitedly greet Steve, who offers a genuine, kind greeting in return.

“What hospital?” Frankie frantically asks Ian’s mother once he’s out of earshot. “Is he okay?”

She sighs, “He’s not responding well to his treatment anymore, so they wanna move him to the children’s hospital across the city.” Tears begin to well up, so she turns away from her son, who’s still in an animated conversation with Steve. “It’ll be for the best, at least to keep him stable. He’s doing alright enough now— kid looks and acts like his body isn’t destroying itself— but they said if we don’t try something else, he’ll decline.” She wipes a stray tear away, daring to glance over at Frankie, whose emotions are scribbled boldly across her face.

“I spent a lot of time in that hospital as a kid, and they helped me regain my life back for quite some time, ‘til I was an adult, really.” She rests her hand on the older woman’s shoulder, adding for reassurance, “He’ll be in good hands there, I promise.”

Charlene nods, trying to smile through the tears. “That helps a bit to hear that, thank you Frankie. And if you can’t visit, it’s completely alright—“

“I’d love to still visit. Won’t be as often now that I’m working again, but I’ll come by when I can.” Frankie glances back at Ian and Steve; the younger boy is talking her partner’s ear off, but he’s genuinely amused by every second of it. “And if you two need anything, don’t be afraid to call.”

“Thank you,” she pulls Frankie into a hug, keeps it quick to be polite. When she looks over at the boys, she chuckles. “You both have been so kind to him, to the both of us. Ian doesn’t have many friends, since he’s in the hospital often, so I’m hoping he’ll make some being around kids his age. But… thank you for being the first stable friend he’s had in awhile.”

Before Frankie can respond from her heart, Ian races over, with Steve in tow. He starts talking a mile a minute, rambling about their costumes, how he thinks Frankie’s dad has the best one, but he and Steve are in a tie for 2nd place.

While panic attempts to consume her every thought, she throws herself into autopilot with appropriate responses; it’s not hard when Ian’s childlike joy is contagious.

Steve catches on quickly that something’s wrong, but he knows it’s best to wait to ask. All he can do right now is subtly squeeze Frankie’s hand in silent support.

The party carries on, and Frankie makes the best of it, making sure Ian, along with her friends and family, have a great time for every second of it all.

“Ugh, it feels so good to not be in that dress anymore,” Frankie groans, throwing a loose sleep shirt over her head.

“If it’s any consolation, you looked pretty damn cute in it.” Steve, finally out of his Santa costume and in sweats, hugs Frankie from behind. He leans over her shoulder to pepper kisses across the side of her face. She laughs, playfully pushing him off.

“Hey, no funny business while everyone’s here,” she scolds him, but it’s barely a weak warning. He pays no mind to it, kissing her jaw, trailing down her neck. With each peck, they grow slower, more focused, enough to make Frankie whimper.

Steve’s lips leave her neck, though his hands still wander under her shirt. Glancing around the room, he says, “What? I don’t see anyone else in here. Just you and me.”

Frankie snorts, rolls her eyes with a whine. She twirls out of Steve’s grasp. “Babe, later. I mean it.” Though, she’s smirking, desperate for alone time with her partner. It’s been a very busy, chaotic, and crowded last few days, and she likes it, but her body doesn’t. She’d kill for a moment to just laze around with Steve, even for a few hours.

“What, you think we can’t be quiet and quick?”

“I can be quiet, but you, on the other hand…”

“Me? You can’t be serious,” Steve scoffs. “Not once have you ever been quiet when we fuck around.”

“… You’ve got five minutes if you can shut me up and keep me quiet, Harrington— whoa!” Steve picks her up bridal style, rushing to rest her back on the bed. He’s swift to pull his pants down to his ankles, tugging Frankie’s down enough to run the tip of his cock between her folds.

“Challenge accepted, Amato,” his dorky reply earns a breathy laugh from his partner. “Knew it,” he mutters, teasingly rubbing against her clit, relishing in the sight of her jaw falling open, head tilting back in a preview of bliss. “Knew you’d be wet already, pretty girl.”

Frankie snaps her head forward to roll her eyes at Steve, but the blush blooming across her face does her feigned annoyance no favors.

“Hey, what’d I say about keeping me qu—“ Steve leans down, kissing her while slowly stretching her out. Frankie manages to strip off her pants completely without breaking the kiss, and Steve’s quick to hook an arm under her leg, lifting enough to reach that spot that makes her eyes roll back and squirm. Hand on her hip to keep her in place, he finds a deliciously slow, steady pace, throbbing against her walls each time she tries moaning, muffled by the kiss.

“Five, you said?” Steve whispers against Frankie’s lips, countering, “Keep quiet, and I’ll make you come in three.”

Steve forgot how much energy most folks have, especially when they’re younger. It’s nearly midnight, and he’s been ready to sleep since 9pm. Frankie had to call it quits for game night around 10, wishing luck to everyone still involved in an intense game of Monopoly.

While the kids continue on, Steve passes off any responsibilities to Robin and Eddie, too exhausted to care about the possibilities of trouble they could get into. He slips into Frankie’s room, holding the doorknob in one hand, while the other steadies the door, in an attempt to close it quietly.

Frankie, though, is still awake; she’s made herself cozy under a pile of blankets, fixated on the view of heavy snowfall out her window. The cities lights float through the window, illuminating the dark room.

“Did we keep you up?” Steve winces, already feeling guilty for how loud they were, but Frankie shakes her head.

“Nah, just couldn’t sleep.” She gives an exhausted, yet genuine smile to him.

He climbs into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders; she leans into his touch, sighing contentedly.

“Pain keeping you up?”

“No, thankfully not. It hasn’t bothered my sleep much lately.” Frankie turns away from the window, head resting against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m scared to jinx it, but it feels like things are finally getting better.”

Steve can feel himself begin to choke up, grateful Frankie’s eyes are closed.

Maybe it’s safe to tell her now…

“Hey… remember when we visited your mom, and made wishes for her birthday?”

Frankie’s too tired to move, barely can nod against his shoulder. But she smiles with a hum, “Mhm.”

“Have any of those ever come true for you?”

She forces her eyes open, glancing up at him with curiosity. “Some of ‘em. Why do you ask?”

“I, uh.. I’m sure it’s just coincidence,” his voice cracks, hand finding hers to lace their fingers together. “But I wished for your— jesus, this is corny—“ Frankie squeezes his hand, reassuring him to continue. “I wished you’d get better by Christmas. And I know that people like us never really get better, not completely… but at least enough that you could live again. I don’t wanna jinx it, but maybe it’s finally coming true.”

Frankie sits up, frowning a little. “I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot to handle. You’ve probably been so tired of taking care of me—“

“What? No, no, god no, it’s not like that,” Steve clarifies gently, feeling awful she still worries how her health affects everyone else, rather than herself. “I don’t see it that way, and never, ever would. I want you to get better enough ‘cause it breaks my heart watching you battle this. You’re strong as hell, but strong or not, this shit sucks.

“You’re still going through it, but it’s so… so relieving to see you make progress, even if it’s slow.” He doesn’t realize the dam broke until Frankie balls the sleeve of her sweater up, wiping away his tears with the fabric.

“Steve, you’re a damn fool for using your wish on me.” His mouth parts, ready to lovingly argue her on that, when she beats him to the punch. “But whether it’s real or coincidence… thank you.”

Frankie kisses his cheek softly, lips turning upward as a subtle blush creeps across his face.

“I’m still waiting on my wish, y’know,” she speaks gently, voice low, afraid to jinx her delicate wish. Through the weariness in her eyes, something twinkles, catching Steve with curiosity. His hand molds against the shape of her jaw and neck, while a familiar warmth blooms in his chest when she leans into his touch. “But it feels like each day is a step toward it coming true.”

“Will you tell me when it comes true?”

“If,” Frankie corrects him.

“No, it has to. It wouldn’t be fair if only one of us got it.” Steve is adamant, refuses to believe whatever Frankie wished for won’t come to life, too.

So much weird, unnatural, unexplainable shit has happened to Steve for years now, he can’t help but believe these wishes could be real, too. There should be hope to balance out the losses, after all.

“Gotta let this one naturally happen,” her whispers dance along his lips, kissing him softly. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

Steve kisses her, a short and sweet peck, slipping underneath the mountain of blankets on her bed. He pushes aside his curiosity. “C’mon, you really need sleep.”

Frankie curls up with him, exhaling a sigh of contentment as Steve spoons her. The two float into a brief, comfortable silence, minutes passing by as they relax against one another.

“Hey… do you think it’s weird to invite Charlene and Ian to dinner tomorrow?” Frankie asks quietly, glancing over her shoulder.

“Why do you ask?”

Frankie hesitates, reins in her emotions to fill Steve in. “Ian has to move to the children’s hospital… his treatment isn’t working right now. Charlene’s stressed, obviously, and I- I don’t know, I just think it’d be nice to invite them, maybe take both their minds off what’s going on for a few hours. Is that weird? Maybe it’d be overstepping—“

“Frankie, it’s not weird.” Steve gives a faint smile, “It’s sweet of you to think of them. Is your Nonna okay with two more people though?”

Her stare narrows as she giggles. “Stevie, you know Nonna welcomes everyone and anyone with open arms.”

‘Yeah,” he sighs, arm draped over Frankie’s waist, squeezing softly. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Santa?”

“Which one?” Steve snorts, referring to her earlier prank.

Teasingly, she quips, “Not you.”

Steve dramatically sighs, “I’m too tired to get back at you , but I’m gonna remember that. You just wait.”

“Threatening me? On Christmas Eve Eve? Nothing but coal for you, ya’ grump.”

First thing tomorrow, Frankie will make her last minute calls, push through another busy day, another one she’s grateful to make it to.

But tonight, she cuddles with her partner, basking in the coziness of warmth shared with one another. She fixates on the snow falling outside her window, glowing under the streetlights, while Steve murmurs such sweet, simple words of affection into her ear. She pulls his arm tight and close to her body, humming as they meld into each other.

Eventually, Steve’s voice drifts off, ushering in his airy, steady breaths as he falls asleep. Frankie cherishes any time with Steve, but nights together like this are just a preview of what her wish holds. She stares off at the snow, eyelids slowly weighing closed, pleading silently to anyone above, any higher power who’ll listen:

Please, please, let this one come true, too.

#steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x francesca ‘frankie’ amato #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #fic: accident prone #fic: accident prone - the blurb sides #my fics

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